I don't even know how to say this. I've always known that my man doesn't like women in any way, in fact, he hates anything even remotely tinged with femaleness. I, on the other hand, have never wanted to be anything else. I thought for many years that I could just accept his misogynistic world and deal with it, just cope with being who biology fated me to be.

Well, it turns out that that just aint so. Over 20 years down the road, I find myself unable to just accept my physical self. I've told him this and his response is to tell me that I'm killing his lover. I gotta tell you, this whole thing is so hard I've thought about just ending it.

I do know one thing though. I do understand that I have come to a point where I either have to be who I am or just not be at all. I wish with all my heart that I could be the happy gay man my husband wants me to be. The gods know I've certainly tried.

I've come to the conclusion that I either have to start being who I am inside or I have to die. I have chosen to live.

I might lose what I thought was to be the love of my life, I don't know, that is his choice. If he can't handle me becoming myself, I will cry and I will feel truly awful. His happiness is literally more important to me than my own.The only thing I know is that I have to do what I have to do, and I have to accept what will come with that.

That is so far beyond hard that I have no words to describe how absolutely soul-destroying it is. I thought I had dealt with some emotional hurdles in the past, but being thrown away by my parents as a young teen and other things have been a piece of cake in comparison.

The thing is, the man I love more than anything or anyone else in this world has straight up told me that if I even take the first steps toward transitioning, he will throw me away. This isn't new, he told me this 20 years ago and I agreed to his conditions. I'm no longer young or pretty, but I'm also no longer able to deny my true self.

I would like to say that I will begin to transition and damn the torpedoes, but I don't even have the money to do that. I likely never will. At this point, the whole thing is more of an academic exercise than anything else.

Working it out in my mind and arguing it out with hubby is still almost more than I can stand. I'm not asking for help or sympathy or anything, really. It just makes me feel better to express my emotions, to tell someone else just how extraordinarily fucked up I am.

I don't know anyplace else to do this.

Anyhow, thanks for lending a kind eye(ear?).

For those of you who give a damn, be assured that if I was going to off myself, I wouldn't go about telling people before I did the deed.

I have to say, removing sex from the equation only makes it harder. It has been almost 12 years since we've had actual penetration type sex, due to the meds he has been taking to keep him alive. I can't complain, he has tried to make up for the deficit with toys and such, but I do have to tell you that he gets jealous of the dildo.

In truth, I can't blame him for that. I can't say that I understand it either. Seriously, I truly don't understand wanting to fuck something. Wanting to be on the other end of that equation, this I get!

I guess what I'm saying here is that I desperately miss my horny man who would even fuck a cantaloupe or a vacuum cleaner(I learned those stories from his mother!(I still wonder if he managed to get seeds up his pee-hole!))

Anyway, The transition from a strong provider to a man who needed me to work 90 hours per week just to be able to afford the meds that kept him alive, followed by the complete denial of my self, to the point of not even being allowed to dress at home and pretend, that was really harsh.

I dealt with it, although not well. I went from being a non drinker to being a full blown alcoholic. 1/2 gallon of vodka every 2 days worth of alcoholic. If I told you it kept me out of my pain, I would be lying.

I drank myself out of business, hell I drank myself out of a profession and several jobs after that. I can't tell you that I have stopped drinking, right now I am on my fifth 24 ounce Schlitz.

Anyway, all of that stuff is why I have finally come to the conclusion that I can no longer pretend or hide or just do anything other than be who I am.

I guess you could say that today will be the beginning of the rest of my life. If it turns out that I have to give up love, well, that is what I will have to do. I might wind up in the street, and if that is what must be, it won't be the first time.

I would like to survive this journey, but something tells me that is not my fate. If I wind up on the streets, I would like it if someone would remember me, sometime.

Please just wear a yellow rose. It probably won't mean a damn thing to anyone other than you.